Wildest Dreams
by dandelionsandberries
Summary: As the start of college dawns on Katniss Everdeen, she and her group of friends decide to take a trip to Finnick's beach house on their last week of summer. While she plans to have one last hurrah before her fresh start, she discovers she isn't able to abandon everything that easily. Especially not her unresolved feelings for her second cousin and friend, Peeta Mellark.
1. Out Of This Town

**CHAPTER ONE – OUT OF THIS TOWN**

It's hot. Very hot. And although I love summer, even I have to admit that I can't take this heat wave anymore. It's not doing any good to my body and soul. And it's not like I have a good soul, after all.

I lick my lips on a fail attempt to satisfy my thirst. I fan myself with a magazine, because of course Aunt Marla's car's AC is broken on the middle of freaking summer. I roll down the window, but there's no breeze whatsoever. Nothing seems to fix my situation.

I turn my head to the side to look at Peeta and send him a death stare. I hate him. Most of all, I hate that this heat doesn't affect him at all. He's just sitting there, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and humming according to the song that comes out of the radio, not a drop of sweat on his body, handsome as always. At my glance, he smiles, not caring a bit that I wish he were dead right now. Maybe if he went to hell, he would sweat, just a little bit. _This fucker, I swear._

I roll my eyes and then focus them on the ceiling, sighing frustrated.

"Remind me again why we didn't take your car."

 _Your car with a perfect functioning air conditioner,_ I want to add.

"Rye needed it," he says simply.

"So? It's _your_ car. Why do you have to give up on it?"

"He asked and I didn't have a problem with it, okay? Look, if you're so damn troubled by it, feel free to catch a ride with Finnick."

I frown and cross my arms. He knows I won't do that. First, because I have some manners and wouldn't leave him after agreeing to go with him, thank you very much. Second, because Finnick is a terrible driver and I don't want to die.

I send Peeta another death glare, but don't comment on it anymore. Instead, I pour my frustration on someone else.

"God, what is taking Jo so long?" I exclaim.

Like on cue, Jo shows up on my window, startling both of us.

"Stop whining so much, Brainless. You waited five minutes."

I narrow my eyes at her. "More like ten."

Peeta laughs at us and gets out of the car to help her with her luggage.

As soon as everything is in the trunk, they come back, Peeta on the driver's seat and Jo on the backseat behind him. She buckles her seat belt and looks at me through the middle rearview mirror when Peeta cracks the engine on and takes off.

"So, are you gonna grunt the whole way to the beach or will I be able to take a nap?"

I sit on my side on the passenger seat to look at her. "Feel free to catch a ride with Finnick, if you are so bothered by it," I bite back.

She squints her eyes at me and I see the little smirk on Peeta's lip, looking somehow proud that I stole his reply.

"No, thanks, I like to live," she says and then catches something by her feet before throwing it to me. It's a Heineken. "I brought that, though, to lighten your mood."

I pop the longneck open with my hand and clink my bottle with the one she has in her hands now. I take a gulp, and the delicious cold liquid slides through my throat.

"I think I'm in love with you right now," I tell her.

"See?" She chuckles, bringing her beer to her lips. "Already lighter."

We offer beer to Peeta, but careful driver as always, he declines. I feel guilty drinking beside him, so I decide that this is the only one I take.

Peeta honks to Finnick when we come by his house, and he, Annie and Tresh are already in the car, so he just takes off in front of us and we go behind, following him given that none of us know the way to his beach house.

On the beginning of spring, Finnick's parents bought a new and glowing beach house that his family came over practically every weekend, when it was warm enough to enjoy. So, when summer entered, he offered us the house to have some time with our friends before almost everyone takes a new beginning in life. Since Jo and I are going to college soon, like Annie and Finnick, we agreed to have this one last hurrah before everything starts getting serious. And Peeta and Tresh, although they already are in college, were invited to come in, since we've all been friends for so long. And that's where we're headed now.

With ten minutes in the road, Jo is already drifting on a nap, and Peeta and I don't talk. The front windows are open, so I take pleasure into feeling the breeze the car speed creates, not caring a bit about how many strands of my braid get loose along the way. When I start to sing to a pop song that comes on the radio, Peeta joins me, but his voice is so terrible that I start to laugh at him. A second later, he's laughing, too.

"Okay, okay," he says, a chuckle dying in his throat. "I'm sorry if I don't sing as well as you do."

"Well, some people might say that you don't sing at all."

His hand comes to my side to tickle me so quickly that I don't even notice before I'm yelping in surprise. I look at him in indignation and he just displays an apologizing smile at me.

"Fine, it's not so bad. You're just out of tune. And off key."

He glares at me for a second and now his smile becomes threatening. "Katniss Everdeen, do you want me to pull over this car right now? Because that will start a tickle fight that _you know_ you're going to lose."

A thrill runs down my spine thinking of Peeta's fingers on me. I remember really well how our tickle fights went down when we were kids and I don't want to revive it at all.

I hold my hands out in surrender for him, but I'm still on joking mode. "Look, I'm sorry. I can't be tortured for speaking the truth."

"You little minion," he hisses, grabbing the Heineken from my hand and giving it a good chug before I can even protest.

"I thought you weren't supposed to drink and drive," I tease when he gives me back the bottle.

He shrugs and wipes his mouth with the back of his right hand. "I was thirsty." And then he smiles at me, boyish and playful.

He looks so handsome with the wind blowing on his messy curls and the blue of his eyes enhanced by the sunlight that a rush of warm energy rushes through me unannounced. I move my eyes to the window, self-conscious that I looked at him for a second too long, and a bell rings loudly in my mind, reminding me once again that I can't think of Peeta like that.

Almost an hour later, I'm shaking Johanna awake because we arrived. She grunts at me, but eventually wakes up to gape at the house like Peeta and I have been doing for the last five minutes.

We go out of the car at the same time Finnick finishes unloading his trunk, a white-teethed smile plastered on his mouth and a (probably overpriced) sunglass on his face, two suitcases still in his hand. He drops them down and comes to us, giving Peeta a pat in the back and greeting Jo and me with kisses on our cheeks. He passes his arms through both of our shoulders, hugging us and facing the house.

"What do you say?" He beams at us, pride all over his voice. "Pretty great, huh?"

"Finn, this is awesome!" I shriek in excitement.

"Yeah, it's fantastic, dude," Peeta agrees.

"What about you, Jo? Liked it?" Finn asks.

"Sure, it's nice." She shrugs like it's no big deal, but Finnick elbows her on her stomach and gets a smile out of her.

The house is white, grey, and enormous. There's a deck right on the side, with a big pool and a barbecue area. It has a second floor, and the rooms that are facing the beach have large balconies. It really is beautiful, but I still have to peek inside to have the full experience.

The three of us greet Tresh and Annie before discharging our own trunk. Finnick welcomes us inside, and we live our baggage on the hall to take a look at the house. It has a living room, a multimedia room with all sorts of videogames, movies, and Netflix, if we ever want to watch it, a large kitchen with an island and a lot of supplies and electronics, and a laundry room that goes out to backyard where we're supposed to hang our clothes to dry, besides the deck and a bathroom. On the second floor, it has two master bedrooms with a bathroom for each one, three other small bedrooms – two with a single queen sized bed and another one, slightly larger, with two bunks – and two bathrooms to share between the guests.

I claim ownership of one of the bedrooms with the queen sized bed – the only other one beside the master bedrooms that faces the beach, thus have a balcony, I'm lucky to say - , and Jo takes the other. Peeta and Tresh end up in the remaining room, and each of them take one bunk. Finnick and Annie, obviously, take one master bedroom. Finnick says that anyone can have the other master bedroom, if they'd like, but we are all too shy and polite and decline it.

After all the bedrooms are assigned, we go downstairs to plan what will do today. Since we still have a couple of hours to kill until sunset, we decide to go to the beach and relax a little before doing a bonfire, where will grill marshmallows. Finn promises to make a barbecue also, and he and Annie head off to a near small market to buy steaks and more beer.

As everyone goes about their business, I fly upstairs to unpack my luggage and get a fresh change of clothes. A soft knock lies on my threshold when I'm looking through my bathing suit options, and I turn on my heels to see Peeta's blue eyes.

"Hey. There's a volleyball net up on the beach and me and Tresh wanted to play. You game?"

I bite on the inside of my cheek, afraid I might disappoint him. "Actually, I was planning on just relax and tan."

Peeta smiles, anyway. "That's okay." And then he eyes the string bikini on my hand and points at it. "Are you going to be wearing that?"

"I was thinking about it," I say, suddenly worried about his wide-eyed expression.

He blows a low whistle and a little smile play on the corner of his lips.

"What?"

"Nothing, Everdeen. I'm just thinking that you wearing something like _that_ \- Well, I'm sure you will be the _only one_ relaxing."

And then he's gone, out of my sight as quickly as he was in, leaving me alone to translate the meaning of his last words.


	2. A Familiar Sound

_**A/N:**_ _Hey, guys! I'm so sorry for all the trouble with Chapters 2 and 3. I'm new to ffnet and still getting the hang of it, and I couldn't change it last week because I wasn't at home. But now, it's all right! I triple checked lol. I'm glad you're enjoying the story. Hopefully, there'll be more soon. Thanks for the reviews! xo_

 **CHAPTER 2 – A FAMILIAR SOUND**

His gaze keeps meeting mine through the flames of our campfire and I have to actively avert my eyes again, my beer bottle label suddenly seeming much more interesting than whatever is going on around me. I pick at the thin material with my nails and my mind flies back to earlier, when Peeta came into my room.

Although I do have some theories, I can't actually figure out what he meant by saying that, and if it actually had some hazy significance or I'm just being my usual self and freaking out about everything involving him.

The thing is I felt like he was flirting with me. However, that could not be the case, because Peeta wouldn't be interested in me of all people. First, because he sure has a supply of college girls ready for him anytime he'd like. And secondly, we _are_ family and that's a fact I can't just ignore. Any desire we could have for each other should be shut down before we could even acknowledge it, but he doesn't make it easy for me with his eyes fleeting in my direction every couple of minutes.

"Yo, Kat, your marshmallow is burning," Finnick calls out.

I hurriedly draw my stick back from the flames, and the candy is actually catching on fire. Everyone chuckles when I lean in and blow softly on it, but I just shrug, biting on it as soon as the fire is out. My tongue burns because it's still a little too hot and the sugar dissolves in my mouth. It's so good that I hum quietly and immediately chance a glance at Peeta, self-conscious about what he would think, but he's not in his place across from me or anywhere to be found, actually.

I look over my shoulder and see him entering the house and my brow furrows. I suppress the will to ask everyone if he's going to sleep, because it really is none of my business.

Annie distracts me when she asks about my plans for college.

"Uh, I'll be going a couple of days after we come back, actually," I explain, pausing to take another bite on my marshmallow. "Ma and Prim will help me move to my dorm and probably stay the rest of the week to help me get to know the city. Then, the classes start and I'm on my own."

"It's crazy how everything is ending and restarting, right?!" She says, a pensive look on her face.

"Stop being such a wuss, Annie," Jo interjects.

Annie ignores her. "I mean, yeah, I'm excited, but it's also very scary."

And then goes on a spiral telling everyone her and Finnick's plans, since they will be going to the same college.

I listen attentive to her while she tells how she already knows who's going to be her roommate and the trip she took with her parents to the college she's attending right after graduation, finishing both my marshmallow and my beer in the meantime. But then I hear the squishy sounds of footsteps in the sand and a moment later feel a presence behind me. Just when I look up a blanket falls on my shoulders.

There's Peeta again, a guitar in his right arm and a smile in his face. "I thought you looked a little cold all by yourself," he explains.

It's strange because I didn't really give any sign of being cold, despite the breeze that plays around all of us, but it's such a nice gesture from him that I smile back.

"Thanks," I say, fiddling with the ends of the cloth to envelope it around myself.

He shrugs. "Move over."

I slide on the little tree trunk I'm using as a bench to give him some room and he settles down beside me, balancing his guitar on his right thigh. Sometimes, it makes me mad how crazy talented he is. He can bake and decorate a perfect cake, knows how to pass on feelings and events on a beautiful painting, is capable of winning over anyone in a debate and was the second best wrestler in our high school, losing only to his older brother. And, as if all of that isn't enough, he learned to play guitar by himself.

"I thought we could play a little something," he says, his eyes concentrating on tuning the musical instrument.

"Yeah, sure," I agree.

I scan our friends as Peeta's thumb grazes the strings for a moment, not really playing anything while Thresh talks to Finnick, laughing about some joke I missed. The laughter dies down after, the silence falls among us and a second later the chords of "Blackbird" invade my ears. It's a favorite of ours, me and Peeta, and I feel my heart wincing because since he went to college we didn't sing it together anymore. I close the blanket around myself, suddenly feeling chilly, but I know that it's the realization that I'll be even more far away from my friends when I go to Capitol University that has everything to do with it and not the cool air around us. Annie's words ring back in my head, making sense. It really is scary how everything is ending.

Thinking thoroughly, I don't know if I'll ever find friends in college like the ones I have right now. Someone like Jo, that makes everything feels lighter despite her sour humor. Or Annie, that is so sweet and cares about how everyone is feeling. Or Finnick, that is always charming and funny. Or Tresh, that cracks a joke when the mood is too heavy. Or Peeta, who is kind, and treats everyone right, and makes me feel warm and safe in a way only my father used to. I won't have any one of these folks close to me next year and this awareness makes the back of my eyes sting with tears.

It's crazy to feel like this, I know that. I've been waiting for college all my life, always excited to go away from my little town, to discover another place, to meet new people. And when I think about it now, I still am pretty enthusiastic about it, but the eagerness is accompanied by an unfamiliar nostalgic feeling that this is the end. I didn't enjoyed my high school years fully and now the clock is ticking and I don't have any more time left to enjoy my friends or to do the crazy things I wanted to.

I'm brought back to reality by the meaningful look Peeta gives me when I miss the beginning of the song. I shake my head to get rid of my thoughts and he begins the first stanza again. There's no sound left but Peeta's guitar when my voice raises with the lyrics.

 _Blackbird singing in the dead of night_

 _Take these broken wings and learn to fly_

 _All your life_

 _You were only waiting for this moment to arise_

I bite my lip when there's a brief pause before the next lyrics, feeling everyone's eyes on me, and then sing again on my cue.

 _Blackbird singing in the dead of night_

 _Take these sunken eyes and learn to see_

 _All your life_

 _You were only waiting for the moment to be free_

The stinging on my chest lessens a bit and a warmth spreads through me when everyone joins me at the chorus. Even Finnick's and Peeta's terrible voices mingle well with everyone else's. And if I'm being honest, Peeta's voice doesn't sound _that_ horrible when he's not forcing it like he was earlier in the car.

Yeah, maybe everything is changing, and we will too, but, for now, I think we're good.

 _Blackbird, fly, blackbird, fly_

 _Into the light of the dark black night_

 _Blackbird, fly, blackbird, fly_

 _Into the light of the dark black night_

It's only me again when the last verse comes in and I take a gulp of air to finish it.

 _Blackbird singing in the dead of night_

 _Take these broken wings and learn to fly_

 _All your life_

 _You were only waiting for this moment to arise_

 _You were only waiting for this moment to arise_

 _You were only waiting for this moment to arise_

When the song dies down in Peeta's guitar, there's a quiet ovation and I look up to my friends.

"Wow, Kat, your voice never fails to amaze me," Finnick says, charming as always, and I give him a shy smile.

"Yeah, brainless, you're not bad," Johanna jokes, sipping from her beer.

I shrug, feeling my cheeks starting to flush. "Thanks, guys," I hurry to say, hinting there's no more compliment needed.

Peeta somehow feels my discomfort and nudges me on the ribs to catch my attention. "One more?" He asks with a coy smile and I nod.

One song ends up in five more and we only stop when I feel my throat dry from all the singing. At this point, everyone is pretty drunk and I grab a beer for me and another one for Peeta from the cooler beside Jo so we can catch up with them. He rests his guitar against the tree trunk before accepting the bottle I offer.

He doesn't make a move to go back to his previous chair across me and I am thankful, because all this singing brought back memories from my father and having Peeta by my side grounds me in place in a weird sort of way.

The conversation between our group picks up again, this time with more jokes than before, some of the voices stumbling with words, in many ways not making any sense, and I find myself laughing hard. I find myself involuntary casting glances at Peeta, too, whenever I take a swig of my beer, and I don't miss the raise of goose bumps in his arms when a drift blows over us.

I feel guilty for having a blanket all for myself when he's obviously feeling chilly, so I drag a corner of it off from my body and hold it out him. "Here." He looks at me with mild confusion and I shrug. "I don't want you to be cold either."

The smile he gives me before taking it, so more beautiful with the glint on his eyes, makes my stomach drop. He pulls the blanket around his shoulders, sliding closer to me so the material can go around both of us. Still, it's a little uncomfortable, because neither of us is completely covered. I'm about to give up and leave it to him when I feel his large hand on my waist and he pulls me even closer to him. A surprised gasp grows in my throat, but I choke on the sound before anyone can hear it. Peeta seems oblivious to the fact as his arm falls comfortably around me. He rearranges the blanket again and in this new position it closes around us successfully.

"Better, right?" He whispers, and I can hear the laugh in his voice in the same way that I feel his breath against my ear, too close and too alluring.

"Uh, yeah," I whisper back, not daring to tilt my head up and look at those beautiful eyes up close.

I try to get back to the conversation, I really do, but it's hard with Peeta so close to me, his big and warm hand splayed on my side like it's no big deal. Everyone doesn't seem to care about it, though, not even bothering to give us a suspicious glance for a second, completely immersed in the conversation going on. So I start to relax on his embrace, because maybe it's nothing much, anyways. We are just protecting ourselves from the wind together with no proclaimed second intentions.

My back screams from relief when I finally let myself loose, leaning into Peeta until my shoulder is brushing against his chest. He doesn't comment on it, so I, free from the tension, join the jokes going on again.

The conversation between everyone carries lightly, going from college to books to TV shows to old adventures and that time Annie's mom caught Finnick slipping from her bedroom window. I gulp down another beer or two, already feeling slightly dizzy when Finnick calls it a night and Annie follows him. The rest of us stay, and Thresh picks up Peeta's guitar to play and our singing returns. One song merges into another and I feel peaceful being here with my friends.

These good memories will be the ones I'll take with me. And maybe this last week I can create some more.

"You know, Finnick is not wrong," Peeta whispers after we finish another song and it startles me because, except for the singing, he's been silent for a while. "You are pretty amazing."

I snort, shifting slightly to face him without the risk of bumping our faces together. "Thank you, but I think all of you give me more credit than I deserve."

"Well, I think that you give yourself little credit, how's that?" He teases, a smirk on his lips, and then his face grows sober. "But, seriously, you should definitely think about pursuing it. A singing career, I mean."

I shake my head. "Nah, I wouldn't been interested in it. And could you imagine me in a concert? I would probably have a panic attack on the stage."

He shrugs and takes a gulp of his beer before replying, "You don't seem to have problem singing here."

"It's different."

"How so?" He asks, his eyebrows shooting up. "We are very much like an audience since you're the only one here that has a decent voice."

"I don't know." But, in fact, I do know. Music could never be a career for me. It's something I inherited from my father, something that we did together, something that belonged only to us. He was the one who taught me how to play a guitar, who brought me new songs to practice, who incite me to keep singing. And the only reason that I can do it now in front of all of my friends, it's because I want to share that same love and care he had for me with them.

"I can sing with you because you're my friends. But I don't feel like I could share it with a stranger, they wouldn't know what it means," I try to clarify. And then, because this turned into something very awkward, I add, "Besides, I doubt any label would be interested in me."

Peeta gazes at me with amusement, eyeing me up and down like I'm some kind of mystery he's trying to figure out. It makes me uncomfortable and I shift on my position while he scrutinizes me.

"What?" I snap.

"Nothing." His eyes still inspect my face when he talks again. "You just have no idea, do you? The effect you can have."

"What do you mean?"

He shakes his head, seeming frustrated. "I told you, Katniss. You're amazing."

For a moment the force of his words, what they do to my heart and my body, takes me aback and his eyes are so intense on mine that they hold me in place.

Then I stand up to walk back to the house before I do something stupid like kiss him.


	3. His Hands Are In My Hair

**CHAPTER THREE – HIS HANDS ARE IN MY HAIR**

At two in the morning, I'm still wide awake in my bed. I roll to my stomach, pressing my face into the pillow and groaning annoyed because there's only one thing on my mind that keeps me from sleeping: Peeta. His playfulness in the car, the flirtatious words in my room, his shirtless body while he was playing volleyball with Tresh, the way he nudged me when he asked for another song, the blanket draped around our touching bodies, what he said on the beach. I revive everything repeatedly in my head, growing angrier each time.

He called me amazing.

I don't think anyone ever called me amazing before, especially not a boy. And particularly not a boy who I've been interested in.

 _A boy who's my cousin._

I grunt again, squeezing the pillow with my arms in a weak attempt to let some frustration out.

How did I get here? How could I be so incredibly stupid to develop a crush for someone who I could most definitely _not_ have a crush on? And, still, be imbecile enough not to walk away when that crush began, but, quite the opposite, feed it for so much time? Honestly, I thought I was smarter than this.

At the same time, how is it possible that he annoys the fuck out of me? All that talk about me pursuing a singing career, as if he doesn't know me well enough, as if he never became acquainted with my backstory and my personality. He knew me better than to touch such a sensitive subject like that, so why did he do it?

Also, that thing he said, that I have some sort of _effect_. What on earth did he mean by that? What effect do I have? And why the hell would he say something like that if he wasn't going to explain further?

Although, to be honest, I did walk away from him before he could explain anything.

But what did he expect? That I was just going to stay there while he complimented me and looked me with those eyes? Specifically given that he was so close to me? What was the point of it all, really? Why the lingering looks, flattering words, reassuring smiles? What was his deal?

I cast a glance at my phone screen again. _2:13 a.m._ There's not a chance that I will get any sleep today. Not with all these lingering questions in my mind. So I kick the covers from my legs and search blindly with my feet for my flip-flops. If I'm not going to sleep, I can at least try to watch something in the multimedia room.

I leave my bedroom light on so I'm able to see while I tap across the hallway silently, not wanting to awake someone else. I go downstairs and walk to the kitchen. The light is still on so I just go around the island to reach the fridge, opening it to catch the water pitcher. I put it on the counter and stand on my toes to grab a glass from the upper cabinet to pour me some water. The cold liquid slides down my throat easily and I sigh in content. I pour myself another glass and just as I'm gulping it down I see the sundeck light on and freeze in place. Because there stands Peeta, outside, leaning on the handrail with his back to me.

Maybe getting up wasn't the best idea.

I try to be silent putting the jar away in the fridge and placing my used glass on the sink. I'll wash it tomorrow. Right now, I have to get the fuck out of here. But just as I'm tiptoeing back to the living room, Peeta's head jerks back for some reason and he sees me. I halt on my feet, anger blinding my eyes, because I almost got away unnoticed. He looks mildly confused for a moment and then waves to me, a smile appearing on his face. I wave back, hopping that it is enough, but he gestures for me to come outside.

 _Damn it_.

Suppressing a scowl, I open the huge glass door that separates the kitchen from the deck and step outside, closing it behind me. As I approach Peeta, I notice his clothes, a jeans and a sweatshirt, and feel self-conscious of mine, a boxer shorts and my pinky pj tank top, so I close my arms around my middle.

"Hey," I whisper in a weak voice. "Sorry for bothering. I thought nobody else was awake."

"It's no bother." He smiles easily. "Couldn't sleep?"

"No," I reply, standing beside him in the handrail and noticing the beer on his hand. "I had a lot on my mind." Then I bite my lip in punishment. _Big mouth_.

His eyebrows shoot up in curiosity, but if he has any questions, he doesn't ask them.

"How 'bout you?"

"Tresh snores," he says.

"So you decided to have one more drink in the middle of the night?"

He chuckles and takes a chug of his beer. "Exactly."

I eye him in suspicion, looking for any signs of drunkenness, but he doesn't even seem tipsy, so I let it go. Instead, I go straight to the point, it's actually chilly here and I have little to no clothes on, and also because I have to be as far away as him as possible. "So, did you want to talk?"

"Yeah," he croaks, looking at me. "I think I owe you an apology."

"Oh?" I say, not hiding the surprise in my tone.

His blue eyes are serious. "About earlier, I shouldn't have pressed you about the singing. I'm sorry." The honesty and regret are clear in his voice. "I just wanted you to know that I think you'd be great, if you ever considered pursuing it."

"Wow," I exhale, glancing down to avoid those damn eyes that seem to bore into my soul. "Thanks, Peeta."

"Also, I understand your reasons. That's what makes me an asshole for what I did."

"It's okay, really," I say, even though it wasn't okay a couple of minutes ago. But how could I stay mad at him when he was being so sincere? It's impossible. "I do have one question for you, though."

"Shoot," he whispers as his lips ghost over the rim of his bottle.

"What effect do I have?"

He stops mid swig, examining me, but quickly recovers and gulps the content of his bottle down, taking his moment. I wait patiently as he bents on his side to put the bottle down by his feet, then comes up again and join his hands together, resting his forearms on the rail.

He doesn't face me when he speaks again. "Man, I really said that, didn't I?" He shakes his head, like he's disappointed with himself. "I thought for a moment that it was only on my mind."

"No. I heard it. Loud and clear."

"Is there any chance that you would let this one go?" He asks and I give him a pointed look. _No way_. "Don't even know why I asked."

"Really, it feels like you don't even know me these days," I joke, but the words feel true.

He snorts with a laugh. "Sorry."

After a minute of silence, I nudge him softly. "Spit it out."

He sinks his face on his hands and lets out a frustrated groan. "I think this conversation requires one more beer."

"Peeta," I hiss.

He rests his hands by his side and turn his head to me. "Okay. Can we at least sit for this?"

I nod and we move to the futon by the door. I sit in a cross-legged position and grab a cushion to cover my lap, resting my back against the wall. Peeta falls beside me, pulling one leg up to rest his ankle on his opposite knee, and takes a deep breath. We don't talk for a while and I let it slide because he's probably preparing what he has to say. And, to be honest, I'm preparing myself, too. Because, whatever it is, I'm sure it's going to change our whole relationship. I just don't know why yet.

"There was this time when we were kids," he begins, and I turn slightly to look at him. "I think you were six and I was seven. There was this talent show in our school and I remember you were so reluctant to participate, but your mother made you go. We were in the second row watching you when you took the stage. You were scowling and it was the most adorable thing ever." He chuckles lightly, probably reminding the exact expression on my face, and I feel a sting in my heart. "Still, you sat up on the stool, crossed arms and brow furrowed, and sang. I never heard anything like it. I was so mesmerized.

"When you stopped, the room fell silent. Everyone was stunned by you. And I mean _everyone_. It was probably only two seconds before they started cheering, but I knew that everybody else was thinking the same thing I was – that you were incredible. And, the thing is, you still are.

He stops for a moment, gathering himself and looking at me to analyze my reaction. I nod my head for him to continue and he takes a deep breath.

"When you sing, everything else quiets down, Katniss. There's you and only you." He pauses and adjusts his body on the furniture, turning towards me. "If you were ever to pursue singing people would feel that, too. And I'm sure they would be wonderstruck just like I was that day. Because _that's_ the effect you have. You have an attraction that pulls people in. They would be able to connect to you, your voice, your lyrics. That's what I meant."

For a moment, we just stay silent, watching each other. I think of all the things that he just said. I remember that day, too. Mom made me wear a red plaid dress and two braids to look good for the show. I was almost crying while I waited in line for my turn, but I put on a brave face. And sang. It was the most excruciating three minutes of my life. I hated it, I hated every second of it. But when everyone clapped and cheered me, I felt happy. Validated, somehow. And satisfied that I actually got over my fear. I think I even might have blew one or two kisses for the audience. Then I went backstage and Mom came to me, telling me that we'd get pizza to celebrate my bravery.

A brunette girl doing a rhythmic gymnastics number won the price that day, but I didn't care because I was so happy afterwards.

I smile with the memory and Peeta catches me. "You remember it, don't you?"

I nod. "Yeah, it was pretty awesome. But I was terrified, too. That's why I didn't want to sing."

He smiles at me. "Ah, come on. You were brave enough to do it anyway."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, try not wanting to do something my mom sets her mind into and she'll make you create some courage right away."

He laughs, bending his upper half and resting his elbows on his knees, and I feel the tension around us melting, the air becoming lighter.

I still have some questions needing to be answered, though.

I crinkle my nose as I ask, "You thought I was adorable?"

"I did." He gives me a quick glance before looking ahead of him again. "I still do."

"Thanks, I guess..." I say in a small voice, blushing deeply. "I can't believe you remember all of that."

He shrugs, but I see the concern hiding on his nonchalant gesture. "Yeah, well, I always had a good memory."

I bite my lip, preparing myself for my next question. "Peeta," I call and he cranes his neck to look over at me. "Now tell me why you were unwilling to tell me this story."

"You're too smart," he says, leaning back against the wall. "Did you know that?"

"I have good memory, too."

He shakes his head and looks down. "Yeah, I was kind of lying about that."

I nod, bringing my legs up to wrap my arms around them and discarding the toss pillow. "I know."

"See? Too smart." He stretches his legs in front of him and knocks the back of his head on the wall behind us. "I'm not going to bullshit you tonight, am I?"

I can't hold inside my teasing words. "When did you ever?"

He smirks at me. " _Touché._ "

There's a pause before I call him again. "Peeta."

"Jesus Christ, Katniss," he grunts. "Are you going to beat me up just to hear it?"

I shrug. "Sure, if I have to."

"God," he sighs frustrated. "Give a man some time to grow a pair."

"Okay."

And then neither of us say a thing again.

I focus my eyes on the sea over the strip of sand in front of us. How the waves come and go. How they revolve around each other. I try to inhale and exhale on the rhythm of them, because the blood pulsing on my ears is so loud that I feel like I might have a heart attack. At my side, Peeta is bouncing his leg, and each time it goes up his knee brushes my toes. It's just a little moment, and I try to calm myself down from the touch, but a second later, his knee is there again, reminding me of his presence and all of this mess that we put ourselves into.

I bite my lip and turn my head to look at him. He's looking at me, too, and a small smile turns the left side of his lips up when our eyes lock.

"I didn't want to tell you that story because I didn't want you to know how much I noticed about you. How much I _always_ noticed about you. The thing is, Katniss, while I do believe that you have a pull at people, I think that, for me, it's different." He looks down for a moment and bites his bottom lip, then his eyes are on mine again. "Actually, _I know_ it's different for me."

I feel his fingers on my wrist, touching my pulse point, and sigh. His gaze drops to where his hand is and he inhales, sliding it up my forearm until it reaches the part where it joins my upper arm. He looks at me again, like he's trying to make sure that I'm okay with this.

I am. _I am super okay with this_.

"Why is it different for you?" I force myself to ask, my voice weakened by his proximity.

His hand goes back, closing around my elbow, and then it's coming up again, pausing on my shoulder. "Because I'm so attracted to you that I can't think straight sometimes," he begins, his voice shallow. "Other times, I just look at you and feel guilty."

I bite my lips and command my lungs to remain functioning.

"But there are other times," he whispers, moving his hand to the nape of my neck and scooting closer to me. "Other times, I just want to send it all to hell." His forehead meets my temple and he closes his eyes. "Do you know what I mean?"

I nod, because I'm not able to talk right now. Contrary to my orders, my lungs _did_ stop working.

I want so much to turn my head and kiss him right now that it hurts not to. It physically hurts. But I know that I can't. Because this is dangerous, and it would change everything for us, and we would be getting in even deeper shit. And if I'm going to do it, I have to make sure that he's in with me. All in.

But before I have any chance to say it, his other hand comes up and his thumb traces the edge of my jaw. "God, you smell so fucking good," he states, cocking his head to the side to nuzzle my neck. "Why do you smell like this? Couldn't you stink?"

That makes me laugh and it comes out as a low breathy sound. Peeta groans and his breath against my skin sends chill down my arms and a bolt of electricity to my chore. _This is getting too hard_.

"Your laugh is fucking musical, Katniss," he whimpers, and his nose grazes my ear. "I never had a chance."

"Me, too," I whisper, finally finding my voice, because I want him to know. "When it came to how I feel about you, I never had a chance, Peeta."

He backs away slowly from my ear and his forehead meets mine. We pant together and my hands goes up to steady myself on his forearms. He shudders under my touch. "But that just makes it worse, doesn't it?" He says, his words tickling my lips. "How are we supposed to walk away from this?"

"Maybe we aren't," I say.

He shakes his head and his nose brushes against mine. "We are, Katniss. _We are_."

I bite my lip and take a breath. This is it. This is when I'll know it. "Walk away, then."

"I can't."

"Why not?" I exhale.

"Because right now there's not a single guilty cell in my body."

My eyes flutter closed, I inch forward and then his lips are on mine. We share experimental first kisses for a few seconds and all I can register is how soft and warm his lips are, and how they seem to lock perfectly with mine. Then, he pulls my bottom lip inside his mouth to suck on it and a low needy groan emerges from my throat just as his hand closes at the nape of my neck and he kisses me more forcefully. I put my feet on the ground and turn myself to him, placing my hands around his neck as he slides his tongue inside my mouth. Another moan threatens to escape from my lips and I fight it, tightening my grip on him instead. In response, Peeta tangles his hands inside my hair, his fingers massaging my scalp when he moves his head to the side so he can explore my mouth further.

This is it. This is how a kiss is supposed to feel like. It's supposed to tingle all parts of your body, to make you want more, _crave for more._ It's supposed to make you think in nothing else than the person you're kissing. _It's supposed to feel this fucking good._

I swirl my tongue around Peeta's, holding tightly onto the collar on his shirt, _needing_ to extend this few minutes as far as I can, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go.


End file.
